


december burns red

by WonderTwinC



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderTwinC/pseuds/WonderTwinC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God, she hated Christmas. [pre-Arrow series]</p>
            </blockquote>





	december burns red

God, she hated Christmas.

Laurel dropped her keys in the bowl by the door, kicking it shut behind her with a satisfying thump. The streets were crowded with shoppers and carolers and people in red, knitted sweaters and holiday music floating in the air from shops and cars and buses and- she hated Christmas.

The Chinese take out she’d fought so hard for was nearly cold, the barest hint of warmth clinging to the bag in her hand, but it was better than trying and failing to cook another meal in the oven or on the stove. Kicking off her heels, she made her way to the couch, dropping her food off on the low table before she ventured into the kitchen to find something to drink. There wasn’t much - she hadn’t been to the store in at least two and a half weeks, but there was a beer in the bottom drawer of the fridge (and how her Dad has missed that she’d never know) and right now it was looking pretty good.

She debated for a minute before grabbing it, popping the top off, leaving the lid on the counter as she made her way back into the living room. There was no tree or decorations, no ornaments, no twinkling lights of any kind - just the regular, somewhat dusty furniture and books spread out on almost every flat surface from the front door to her bedroom as a result of her impending graduation.

A few more months and too many exams to count and she’d be ready to take the fight from her classrooms to an actual court house. She was nervous and excited and scared, but most of all she was just…  _ready_.

So very, very ready.

Laurel plopped down on the couch, setting her beer to the side as she grabbed her container of lo mein, feeling the hungry rumble of her stomach in response. It settled after the first, slightly cold bite. She grabbed the remote from where it’d fallen between the couch cushions and turned on the television without even thinking, so used to mindlessly watching a few minutes of something while she had dinner.

It was a mistake.

Christmas music blasted from the speakers and she changed the channel immediately - which really didn’t help. No matter what channel she flipped to it was all Christmas - movies and televisions shows, music and commercials, everything was red and white and green and she couldn’t take it.

She shut it off and threw the remote back on the couch, less hungry than she was before.

In retrospect, the beer wasn’t that appealing either.

She sighed.

Leaving her food on the coffee table and her beer almost untouched, Laurel abandoned the living room and instead decided to just… go to bed.

It was still early, not even eight yet - but she knew that in a few hours she’d be getting a call from some bartender somewhere in the city to come pick up her wasted Dad and bring him home.

She’d like to have at least a little sleep before that happened.

Climbing the stairs with heavy, tired limbs, Laurel paused at the first door to the left of the hallway. Her mouth and throat went dry as she reached out, placing trembling fingers against the closed door. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in that room - the last time she’d even seen her father open the door, but… she eased it open gently, slowly.

It was just as Sara had left it, her satchel thrown across the bed - clothes haphazardly laying on every surface - shoes mismatched here and there… and then there were gifts, obviously wrapped by her father, sitting in the middle of the mattress. Two for each year since they’d lost Sara - one for her birthday and one for the holiday… two for every year except this one.

She wondered if he’d even remembered.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Laurel looked around the darkened room - eyes landing on a photograph on Sara’s desk. It was the two of them laid out on their stomachs, smiling brightly at the camera in black and white. It was the same photo she had on her own desk in her room, turned face down and hidden underneath a few of her text books.

And -  _god_.

Laurel slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the empty house as she stood just outside of it, breathing heavily.

She hated it. She hated Christmas so much that she couldn’t stand it… but god, how she missed Sara - like someone had carved a hole in her chest and she wanted to be angry, she wanted to tear the world apart at the seams but…

She couldn’t hate Sara.

She couldn’t hate her baby sister who’s smiling face she’d never see again except for in photographs.

So she hated Christmas, she hated the holiday and everything about it - well, almost everything about it.

Her vision blurred with tears. 

“Happy birthday, Sar-bear,” she whispered to no one at all.


End file.
